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What was Johnny Carson’s particular magic in late night?
Conan O’Brien remembers those moments on “The Tonight Show” when Johnny would crack up over his guests. Joan Rivers agrees Carson was “the best straightman ever.”
David Letterman says the combination of big brassy Ed McMahon and smarter, better looking Carson had a classic Laurel and Hardy appeal. David Steinberg thinks Johnny brought a McLuhanesque “cool” to the cool medium.
They all worship at the altar of Johnny, the most influential if not the biggest TV star in history, the tastemaker when TV comedy was young.
Fantastic entertainer, miserable human being. That’s the lasting message of the new PBS “American Masters” film, a rich history of a rare product of television who dominated the small screen for decades.
“Johnny Carson: King of Late Night” debuts May 14, 8-10 p.m. on Rocky Mountain PBS.
Unprecedented access to personal archives plus all existing episodes of “The Tonight Show” (1962-1992), distinguishes this film by Peter Jones (“L.A.: The Chandlers and their Times,” “American Masters: Goldwyn”). Telling interviews with family and colleagues, including second wife Joanne Carson, former “Tonight Show” executive producer Peter Lassally and a number of biographers sharpen the picture. The clips are carefully selected to illustrate specific personality traits, the performance highlights are given context and meaning beyond funny lines and memorable moments.
We recall the famous tomahawk-throwing incident with Ed Ames, but here the clip is used to illustrate how Carson arrived at the awareness that he could ad lib as well as anyone.
Carson is saluted as the master of the monologue, the man who regularly drew 15 million viewers (double the current audience of Leno and Letterman combined), who set the standard for bedtime TV, influenced the sexual revolution in America, normalized divorce, and designated the next generation of star comedians. He is also described as a loner, essentially unknowable, beligerent and violent after too many drinks.
Many documentaries have dissected the psychological need of various comedians to win the love of an audience as a substitute for affection they couldn’t get at home, but Jones digs up specific and crushing examples. Ruth Carson was the kind of withholding mother who couldn’t give a compliment or acknowledge her son’s success. The unloving mother is pinpointed as the reason Carson was unable to be faithful to four wives.
There’s something sad about the film, too, beyond Carson’s personal demons. Maybe it’s the sense of loss, 20 years after his tearful signoff show as he went into retirement, 50 years after he took over the show from Jack Paar and seven years after his death. Or maybe it’s knowing America will never again be so innocent and unified at bedtime.
Joanne Ostrow: 303-954-1830 or jostrow@denverpost.com
